


A tail of scales.

by AMaskOnTwoFaces



Series: To be a dragon. [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abuse of italics, Body Modification, Dragon Merlin (Merlin), Dragonlord Merlin (Merlin), Gen, If learning a whole new body counts?, Mythical Beings & Creatures, abuse of commas, abuse of dashes, abuse of ellipsis, abuse of exclamation marks, abuse of semicolons, eh, magical transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMaskOnTwoFaces/pseuds/AMaskOnTwoFaces
Summary: It was quite an unusual feeling to be uncertain of one’s own basic form and coloration, and it led to Merlin’s idea of his identity as a dragon being hazy and indistinct.  He, on some base level, knew that he was a dragon, but he didn’t have many descriptors for his own self beyond that.
Series: To be a dragon. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796668
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	A tail of scales.

**Author's Note:**

> Alt. title: “A tale of scales”, but puns are hard to communicate in writing.
> 
> Basically a part the second of Merlin figuring out how in the world this whole shifting business works and some further exploration of his form.
> 
> After how much y’all liked the first part of this series, I definitely gave myself analysis paralysis wanting to make sure this one lived up to the quality of the first. As a result, writing this was like pulling a mouthful of teeth, one at a time, and I’m still not entirely happy with it. Hopefully the next will be better, but this piece wasn’t going to magically improve by sitting on my computer for several more months.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> (And if you don’t already know this: a fortnight is a period of time equivalent to two weeks, and a moon is roughly a month.)

The moon was bright tonight, nearly full, and the leaves sparkled as they dripped softly with rain from this afternoon’s storm. 

A fortnight ago, Merlin discovered--in a sleepless night filled with trials of pain and confusion--that he couldn’t be just a normal dragonlord. No, this relatively unknown title with its even more mysterious powers, inherited upon his newly-found father’s death just a scant month ago, meant that in the special case that was _Merlin,_ he could slip his skin to _be_ a dragon as well. Indeed--according to Kilgharrah--he _needed_ to turn into a dragon as often as once a moon. Otherwise, his dragon would eventually tear itself out of his skin in a lengthy, excruciating process, just like it did when it first made itself known to Merlin a fortnight ago.

A fortnight may only be half a moon, but Merlin had no intention of ever having his dragon tear itself out of him like that first time again. Once was plenty to make sure he was never foolish enough to forget to let his wilder side free. 

Admittedly, it wouldn’t hurt to change by a lake to be able to study his new form as well.

Truly, it was that second reason that made him unable to wait another fortnight to change again. He had spent so little time exploring his alternate form when he had first changed; he had been more worried about how to change back (okay, and maybe panicking a _little_ bit) instead of appreciating the form of the majestic beast he had unexpectedly become. He had only made a cursory glance over himself at the time, just enough to ascertain that he was a dragon, dark as night, and still several times smaller than the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah.

But what color were his eyes? Did he have horns? Did he still have ears? Knowing just the one dragon gave Merlin very little understanding for what one tended to look like.

It was quite an unusual feeling to be uncertain of one’s own basic form and coloration, and it led to Merlin’s idea of his identity as a dragon being hazy and indistinct. He, on some base level, knew that he was a dragon, but he didn’t have many descriptors for his own self beyond that.

Unable to wait another night longer (and with this week’s contestant for the game ‘Who Can Finally Kill Prince Arthur’ soundly defeated), Merlin trekked out into the forest once more. He had a lake in mind as a destination, and he hoped that the shore was as clear of trees as he remembered for him to be able to spread his wings out.

When he arrived, he found that it was indeed as spacious as he had thought, and he gave a cursory look around with both eyes and magic to ensure that he was truly alone.

Remembering the unfortunate effects his transformation had on his clothing last time, Merlin went to strip off, wanting to save himself the trouble of having to mend them again after the fact. He hesitated at dropping his pants, though, for it was one thing to strip to take a swim, and it was quite another to strip in order to stand about naked, in the woods, in the middle of the night, for as long as it would take for him figure out how to slip his skin back into his dragon form once again. He finally did remove them though, figuring he’d probably have to get used to being nude in the forest sooner or later, as this seemed like it would need to become a recurring thing.

Even in the late summer air, he was shivering at the feel of the cool breeze drifting lazily over his bare skin, and he crossed his arms tight to his chest in an effort to preserve his body’s warmth. This trek may not be entirely feasible in the winter, now that he thought about it.

Well, that’s a problem for future Merlin.

Right now, he needed to focus on slipping into his dragon skin; intentionally transforming from human to dragon for the first time.

Okay. So.

He closed his eyes and thought back to how he got himself to change into human form again after his first transformation. It was from imagining himself doing actions he could only do as a human that got himself to change back, so the opposite must be true in order to change into a dragon, right? He should just have to imagine himself doing things he could only do as a dragon, and then he should be a dragon; easy as that.

Except… Merlin didn’t really do much as a dragon last time. He growled a bit at Kilgharrah, moved his neck around to study himself and the other dragon, and maybe took a couple of steps. There wasn’t much content for him to pull from.

There are a couple things that he could still try, though. 

_He thought about when his back had twitched, and how that had moved his wing next to him._

Nothing.

_That feeling of his head moving too far on a longer neck, and the sight of his long, sinuous body as it had stretched out behind him._

His human fingers gripped his elbows tighter as his shivers became more persistent.

_The too-wide view he had had of the forest, and the strange coloration it had taken to his beastly eyes._

His human toes clench, digging into the soft, wet dirt below him.

_The numb feeling of his padded forepaws, and the limited range of motion he had with what were formerly dexterous human fingers._

His jaw clenched. He could feel his frustration mounting at his inability to shift on his own. He was such an idiot! How could he shift now without waiting for the torture of the dragon pulling itself out in at least another fortnight hence? If he hadn’t been so quick to change back; if he had used the other form just a little more! Oh, if only he had known to collect those memories! But not even Kilgharrah had known to tell him that.

He just wanted to scream his frustration to the sky!! No one was ever around to walk him through all these experiences with magic. So many had walked these paths before him, and yet he was left to flounder as if he was the first one to discover them! What use was his power if he didn’t have the knowledge, the training, the common sense _advice_ of his predecessors?! He just wanted to-- to--

“ _ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAR!!_ ”

The call ripped out of his chest as the ground gave it’s now tale-tell lurch of him shifting; his only warning before he started tipping forward, his arms--no, forelegs--landing heavily on the ground in front of him.

He gave himself a little shake from head to--well--tail, and blinked his eyes open to the too wide, too bright, mis-colored vision of his dragon form.

He blinked, mildly perplexed for a moment, then bared his teeth in a dragon’s mockery of a smile; success.

Did he know how he managed to change? No. But hopefully he’ll gather enough memories of being a dragon tonight that it will hardly matter in the future.

For now though, he ambled over to the lakeside to peer into the gently rippling water. The feel of the grass brushing against the underside of his tail as it dragged behind him sits as a strange awareness in the back of his mind.

His eyes were the first thing he noticed. They were blue, as they usually were, though they seemed a little brighter and paler when contrasted against the deep black scales of his head. Unlike usual, though, his pupils were definitely slitted. Vertical, cat-like slits that made the familiar blue of his eyes seem so alien.

The next were the ears; similar to a deer’s in shape and proportion, though a little bit floppier and a little more wide-set. Merlin snorted. Of course he would still have big ears in this form; magic must have sensed that that was the quintessential “Merlin” feature.

The actual shape of his head was not far different from that of Kilgharrah’s; that strange cross of the wide-set triangle of a snake and the long, boxy snout of a horse. In peeling back his lips, Merlin could spy the long, pearly fangs that cluttered his maw. Each tooth was easily as long as a hunting knife, and looked just as wickedly sharp; capable of rending flesh and bone alike.

Merlin bared his teeth in a mock grin, snorting at how truly terrifying all those sharp teeth were. He messed around a little, hissing at himself in the lake’s reflection, then jumped back in startled fear when something on his head _moved_.

Cautiously, he approached the water again. Everything _looks_ the same...? 

Perhaps… ?

Bracing himself, Merlin hissed again, this time clenching his legs so he didn't jump back when he startled as that _thing_ shifting around his head. Cocking his head, he hissed again, this time keeping it up long enough to take in the flap of… skin?... lifting up from his throat. It looked like some sort of imitation of a very wide, full beard; a spiky swath of skin reaching up almost to his ears and with an inverted peak dipping in at the bottom center. When combined with a hissing, snarling dragon and a mouthful of fangs, ears pressed back flat against his head, it really didn't look ridiculous, and instead worked to make him seem bigger and more intimidating.

Curious, Merlin squinted at the water, trying to feel out the muscles working the flap. It gave a little shudder at his attempts to control it, but otherwise stayed flat against his neck. A veritable hour went by of messing with his neck muscles (and giving himself probably the weirdest set of cramps he’s ever had the displeasure of feeling), but he finally got the beard to lift under his own conscious command.

It wasn’t until he’d succeeded at his task that Merlin noticed how hard he was panting from the effort of focusing so intensely. He may have been holding his breath in the process of figuring out his throat muscles as well, but that’s rather hard to tell after the fact. 

But as he catches his breath, Merlin grins to himself; it’s not every day you learn how to operate a new body part!

And then his ear twitches, and the whole exciting process begins again, learning to swivel his ears this way and that, and the intriguing modulation that occurs to the field of sound around him as he focuses his ears to the lake, to the trees, down to the earth, up to the sky.

Merlin gives his wings a flutter, losing himself to the possibility of flight. The thrill of endless possibilities, nothing but his own strength and will dictating his path, no obstacles nor roads nor bull-headed princes to dictate his wanderings. Nothing below him but air, and nothing above him but sky. Nothing but his wings and magic to catch him if he falls.

He settles his wings back against his body, though. It takes some effort to figure out how to even fold them in, and he knows he is nowhere near ready to attempt flight yet, as much as he longs for the freedom of the skies above.

But, one day, he will be limitless, with nothing to tie him down.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact (and even more fun google history for me); hunting knives are about 3 to 6 inches long. That’s as short as the length of your palm to as long as the entire length of your hand. They’re meant to be small in order to perform the precision cuts needed to skin and carve a variety of game.
> 
> Also, Merlin’s neck flap thing is modelled after bearded dragons (the type of lizards that exist irl).


End file.
